Goodness
by rurousha
Summary: How to be a better angel. Sequel to Witless.


Aziraphale found her sitting on a bench in the garden. Their garden. It might not be Eden, but it was theirs and all the more beautiful for it. There should not be an intruder in it, though he had almost expected it. Adam had died yesterday. Beautiful, boisterous Adam, happy and aged but still so mortal, had died with two of his children, four of his grandchildren, one great-grandchild, and both of his godfathers at his bedside.

And now there was an angel in his garden. His and Crowley's.

She turned her head to him as he approached. "You have the most beautiful garden," she said. "You can feel the love here. And a fairly strong dose of fear."

"That would be Crowley's doing," he said defensively. He didn't know why she was here, but he wasn't about to start being ashamed of his life or his choices. Not anymore. Not for a long time now.

"The love or the fear?" she asked.

"Yes. Both."

She smiled at him, softly amused. He didn't understand what she was doing here. She didn't seem hostile, though he had been wrong about such things before.

"I am sorry for you loss yesterday, Aziraphale," she said.

"I don't believe you."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't. And I admit that it is a bit of a relief to no longer have the antichrist on this mortal plane, but I am saddened by your grief none-the-less."

"What do you want?" Aziraphale asked sharply. He didn't want some angel coming down and condescending to him about the loss of his loved ones.

"I am not here to hurt you Aziraphale. Or the dem – " she stopped and corrected herself, "or Crowley. I am here to ask for forgiveness and, maybe, for a favor."

Aziraphale was puzzled, and it must have shown on his face.

"Please, Aziraphale. Will you give me a chance to explain?"

Warily, he walked over and sat beside her on the bench. He had picked the bench out a few years back when their old wooden one had succumbed to age.

He looked at her more closely. "It's Joshua, isn't it?"

She nodded. They had met a few times, passingly, before… well, Before. She wasn't an archangel or anyone of any great influence. But she was old, much older than he. Her words and her experience held power, at least.

"You are here to ask for my forgiveness?" He sounded skeptical.

She shook her head. "Not yours, though maybe one day I will seek that as well. But first, I seek God's."

"For what?"

"For my failure. Years ago, I thought it was you that had failed in your duties to Heaven. But I eventually remembered that our responsibility to Heaven was the same as our responsibility to humanity. We were meant to be comforters and guides. I can't believe we forgot that. Instead, we were only soldiers on that day. I did not want to fight. It doesn't appeal to me. But I was ready to fight because it is what I was told to do. What I thought we were meant to do. But we didn't bother to ask or to think. I seek forgiveness from the Almighty for our blindness, and for my own cowardice."

Tentatively, Aziraphale reached out. He took her hand in his.

"I cannot offer you what is only God's to give. I think, perhaps, we all have some reparations to make. And, in truth, my act of rebellion was not one of bravery or even obedience to a plan that I thought the Almighty might actually be working. It was an entirely selfish act. I simply… didn't want to lose what I loved."

"Crowley?" Joshua asked.

"I, well, rather meant the Earth. Humanity. My books, and music, and, well, sushi."

She gave him a disbelieving little smile that Aziraphale did not appreciate one bit.

"And, yes, alright, Crowley," he ceded. He took his hand back and sat up a little straighter, feeling defensive again even though he told himself he wasn't going to. "What did you want from me, then?" Aziraphale asked sharply.

Joshua was still giving him a coy smile. "Yes, of course. The favor."

It seemed the weight of the conversation had passed, and Aziraphale was glad of it. He wasn't sure how he felt about having a heart to heart with an angel after all this time.

"Times are changing, in Heaven," Joshua said.

Aziraphale snorted. It was very undignified.

"I'm not saying it's going quickly or easily or that Heaven is suddenly ready to welcome you home with open arms. But it is changing. A group of young angels approached me some time back and said they were interested in learning more about humanity. Some want to embrace one of our oldest commandments – to protect humans – and some just want to fight demons the old-fashioned way. Without all that Armageddon nonsense. Most have never been to Earth."

"Why did they approach you?"

"Because I have been in discussion with the archangels, trying to convince them that starting another war isn't the way forward."

"You have been trying to talk the archangels down? Well, I can't imagine that has gone well. Or that they would appreciate you being here now."

"Actually," Joshua said carefully, "it was Michael that suggested I speak with you."

Aziraphale mentally stuttered. Then, "Wh – what? Michael?" He had last seen Michael in Hell. She had been coldly gleeful in her part of Crowley's execution. "I can't imagine Michael encouraging this in any way."

"Michael has been very pensive of late. She said that she has reflected on something you said to her, just before Armageddon started. About our roles in God's plan. She and I have had many discussions on it in recent years."

"You will have to forgive me if I don't quite believe that."

"Try to be forgiving, Aziraphale. Michael's ire was always directed at Crowley. She thought he had twisted you, tricked you into turning away from Heaven. She thought forcing you back to Heaven, to our side, was the only way to save you from Falling. But then the war didn't happen, you didn't Fall, and Crowley didn't die. So she took the time to rethink some of her assumptions."

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment, struck by what Joshua was telling him. "And Gabriel?"

Crowley told him very little about that whole execution by hellfire incident. He only laughed when he told him about breathing fire at the other angels. But they way he left out what was said beforehand made Aziraphale think that it wasn't very pleasant. Aziraphale could easily guess what it might have been.

Joshua looked a little chagrined. "Gabriel will take some time." She left it at that.

"The favor?" Aziraphale asked, bringing the conversation back on topic yet again.

"Yes. Michael has suggested an informal mentorship program."

"Sorry, dear, what?"

"We, as angels, need to understand humanity better. We have been entirely too lax in our duties and too distant. And even those of the Host that have spent significant time among humanity do not have anywhere near your experience. Not even if we counted all their time on Earth combined. No one loves them they way you do. Heaven needs you, Aziraphale. We need you to teach your brothers and sisters. We need to be able to walk among humanity again. We need to understand how they act and think. What drives them? We need to understand how they relate to God now. People change on Earth so much faster than they do in Heaven, and we can't keep up. We need your help."

"Oh. Well. Goodness."


End file.
